


Letters from Romeo

by cleonsyk (lrviolet)



Category: EXO (Band), T-Ara
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5062456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrviolet/pseuds/cleonsyk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes one has to force out all the bad things in order for the good to be appreciated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters from Romeo

**Author's Note:**

> This is in no way connected to that of Letters to Juliet lmao I just think that the title would be more or less appropriate. I don't know what I'm saying, excuse me. Pretty old fic too, had this posted in 2012 in Livejournal.

He woke up from that horrible dream, and though it wasn’t really a frightening one, the aftermath was still ever so daunting. There wasn’t anything as physical hurt to it, but he felt tired, chest heavy and head swirling that almost at once he had the urge to go back to sleep again just to be sure of what he was feeling.

As he stared at the right side of the empty bed, he vaguely wondered what she would be doing (he turned around just to check the time on his clock) at six forty-five in her mornings, one such as this, and his imagination made heaps of sudden images of her after for quite some time: could she still be asleep, cuddling a pillow in between her legs (that most of the times somewhere in the past it had been him she held) or could she be up and about already, folding the sheets and groggily slipping out of her night gown and going to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for them both...

Park Chanyeol was amused at her leaving. He said he wasn’t going to miss her, which made it even funnier.

 

 

(“You think you’re everything, huh? And then what about the bills that we have to pay? Do you think it’ll help if we were to be married? Obviously not. And who’s stalking newspaper ads just so I can feed that pretty face of yours? Huh? Who’s making effort into making our future work?” Tears in her eyes, she exited the bedroom, a hand over her mouth without turning back, running to the door. His arms over his chest, not bothering to turn and see the damage done, Chanyeol tried not to give in.

Yet he did anyway, seeing her so fragile of a child, hand on the doorknob. As though waiting. For permission, Chanyeol immediately assumed, so he threw his arms in the air, yelling, “Just leave if you’re gonna!”

She bit her lower lip, taking out her coat and swinging the door violently behind her. So she was gone. He let her leave because some time later she would come back.

And just so suddenly the ‘some time’ stopped, and he still just let it happen since, he believed, it was something natural, like paper cuts that made one bleed, like alcohol that turned one drunk. Losing someone was natural.)

 

At first he thought that living together was another easy-peasy thing, and he didn’t mind his girlfriend of three years by his side every time –after all, it was almost like they already appeared married one way or another anyway, and they knew each other, Chanyeol and Jiyeon, so well that reading each other’s expression and body language was enough to know how the other felt. They argued and fought and it was healthy, said both of their parents, said both of their close friends, said their relatives and even strangers who made up quotes about love. Fighting was healthy.

They were a complete mess in mornings like these, Chanyeol remembered. He had work by seven (now he went to the daily eight o’ clock shift as clerk in an auditing office) and Jiyeon was on her third year at medical school, so she usually was home, studying and flipping pages of those thick dead things Chanyeol called her new friends. Because she was also up until the wee hours in the morning, it took time to cope up being awake all the time, especially with Chanyeol around.

Sleep at only two to three hours, she would wake up earlier than him, because she needed to, in the sense of making breakfast. They once started off at a fine schedule, acceptable but then it got harder, more intense as she needed to do better now, more sleep more rest, or else her already emaciated body would restrict. Chanyeol understood, he didn’t mind; at least after a couple of months the complaints were heavier, and what used to be breakfast in bed together turned to hardly dining together anymore; sometimes he would just leave at an empty stomach.

Amusing, Chanyeol decided. It was only natural that after a year without her nagging of him to get out of bed, after a year without spilling coffee at each other’s clothes (of course Chanyeol always got more furious because it was his new tie or he just had his pants dry-cleaned), after a year of not knowing what time it was because she was almost like this walking alarm clock, he would eventually feel that something was indeed lacking.

He poured himself a bowl of cereal. Today was a Sunday, so no rush and not much to practically worry about. A few calls back at the company and so-so invites from Baekhyun and the others to go drinking tonight, Chanyeol planned to take a walk at the park for today’s to-do list instead.

She disliked walking. That was one of Jiyeon’s worsts because Chanyeol had always been fond of it, turning here and then there, the existing wanderlust bursting every time they were on the streets; they bought street food and then paid a kid with a scooter because she had been too tired to use her own two feet. It had been to the point that with his first salary (after moving in together), he bought Jiyeon a motor bike, and she had to crash more than a thousand times to efficiently drive through Seoul traffic. Hospital bills and accident fees; definitely accident prone and unemployed Jiyeon couldn’t account herself, therefore after a few tries and a few emergency loans, she learned it at best.

 

(“If you could’ve bought me a car instead,” Jiyeon grunted. And Chanyeol oftentimes showed his wallet to her.

“Already am broke because of you, you know that?” He could almost see, behind the bandage over her forehead, the glimmer of hatred in her eyes even when she was so silent and looking away. They did know each other for quite a while now.)

 

He sat at the usual bench, with his earphones plugged on and the soft music of a Japanese artist suddenly played, trapping him into once again memories of his ex-girlfriend. The park was still a trend of all ages, to all walks of life and all orientations and race. It was peaceful, and Jiyeon liked that, Chanyeol couldn’t help himself from actually knowing that fact.

She wanted it to be quiet, almost every time that Chanyeol would purposely crash plates on to the floor, or rummage through drawers and drawers of utensils, just to annoy her, just to see her outraged and they would chase each other off until someone got hurt, usually her, and almost lately before the break up, nobody apologized anymore –and the mere joke turned out a bad habit.

From across his sight, he could see two lovebirds on roller blades, the guy with his one arm around her, guided every move she made, gliding together and falling together even. Chanyeol smiled, and felt rather grateful that he and Jiyeon didn’t have to go through roller blades and kite flying and bird watching. They were a much quieter couple when they lived in the same house; even Jieun, who came once to visit and borrow stuff, thought so too.

He shifted his view to his side, imagining Jiyeon reading her anatomy book and just remaining silent; nothing to talk about, really. She often smiled to herself while looking at something else (e.g. fountain, children, balloon), which Chanyeol would go ruin and ask why. She always answered, already infuriated, “Really you. Can’t you appreciate the little things?”

Silence would be permanent and they would ride the bus back home.

Times changed, and the tides didn’t always run to where you want them. Everything was at its natural pace, Chanyeol thought. Jiyeon was not to his side anymore, so he closed his eyes, craning his head back and getting a few snooze while the music became a remedy to loneliness.

His Sundays were boring. A lot noisier without Jiyeon though, and this thought made him laugh out loud over a lunch date with Wu Fan. The other man rolled his eyes and continued eating his steak, unmindful at the queer Chanyeol.

“You should go out more, you know,” the other man suggested, drinking his water.

Chanyeol just nodded. “I do. I went to the park earlier today.”

“You were going to marry her, weren’t you?”

He smiled, looking at the window. “Well, I was planning to.”

“But it was stupid of you to be counting on the deeds and wanting an exchange for everything you’ve done for her.” Chanyeol’s focus moved to him, intensely even, that he knew Wu Fan was actually making sense; even considering that he was one of the boys who disapproved of getting into long-term relationships (cassanova, you know).

“She pushed me to it.”

“If you loved her then you could’ve understood.”

He stabbed his fist on the table. “I loved Jiyeon, okay? I never did ask her to return the favors. Quit talking like you know the story.”

Wu Fan shook his head, folding his arms. “You told me the story tenfold over a drinking session. It’s done. And maybe it wasn’t her fault. Maybe not yours either. So... maybe it’s best we all move on. After all, I thought you already have three months ago?”

Fucking Kris talking like he knows all the works, Chanyeol couldn’t help himself, shoulders hunched down and hands slipped into his coat pockets as he walked back to the apartment. Move on, he said. Move on and start looking for something brighter, what a lie and a slap on the face.

He went up the staircase and reached number 436, his old faithful home, the one he shared with Jiyeon before. It was sundown, and the door was actually slightly opened, into which he rushed immediately to the key under the Welcome mat.

Back then they didn’t have spare keys, which was a bit stupid to counter Chanyeol’s principles. Every time she came home from school, Jiyeon would wait up by the door, tapping her foot impatiently, crossing her arms. When he came home really late, drinking again with the boys, she had fell asleep on the doorstep and no neighbor of their adopted her or something. She laid there, like a baby, her dead ‘friend’ named pharmacy as a makeshift pillow.

At first Chanyeol, even at his drunken state, would carry her with his two hands and put her to bed, either leading to helping her out of her clothes effectively or just tucking her in and lying beside her. Good times faded, therefore he usually came home early for her sake and just left at eight. She would wait up to forever and fall asleep, studying and waiting and passing time for Chanyeol to come back home, for she made dinner and such. The alley cats enjoyed their meals quite well because of this.

Now it was open, he dashing to see someone at the dining area, setting the plates and lighting candles. His eyes wide-eyed in return, he approached her with sudden surprise, his heart speechless, breatheless, nervous and all the more dumbfounded.

Jiyeon.

The girl turned around, smiling at him as she wrapped her hands around him. “Where have you been? I wanted us to celebrate our three months the whole day. Your phone was down.”

Chanyeol pretended to smile, and he knew it worked on her. She wasn’t Jiyeon, so she never really could tell the difference between what he was putting up, and what was behind it. Jiyeon knew from every moment, every curve of his lips, every evidence that he was uncomfortable of an idea –she was an expert at unmasking the truth, especially with him. Vice versa too, Chanyeol took much pride in that for dating an engimatic girl without anyone, not even her own parents had uncovered.

She smelled different too, far different and her touch was still so very foreign despite the three months of being contact with this new species, in partial replacement of Jiyeon, wherever she might have ran into now, wherever she might even be at this moment.

 

 

“Did you miss me, Chanyeol-ah?”

He was sweating extensively, and as though fast forward to where he was now, he didn’t realize how much fun he was creating, he was missing out. He didn’t take pride in such relations either; her words slurring into his ear, and if it was out of need for pleasure had he actually kissed her neck or the side of her lips and opened mouths a little wider as the ride went on further to the climax, he thought of Jiyeon.

He thought of Jiyeon and how she would fall asleep at things like these in the middle of the fun. It was stupid really, but he knew not to exhaust her. She refused, always refused and they ended up arguing until the other would sleep in the living room.

Chanyeol still thought of Jiyeon after it all. It was almost three in the morning and he had work in a few hours, but his eyes had no desire of sleep, staring at the ceiling of twinkling stars that both he and Jiyeon painted.

He slowly slipped out of the bed, getting into his clothes, and kneeling before the bed, his long hands reaching for the pile of notes beneath a wooden case. With webs and such, he took out the pen and slipped it into his pocket, eventually taking a walk outside to a nearby basketball court.

Chanyeol was suddenly happy. He opened each piece of paper, all letters untouched after a year and not even sent to the girl he would never forget, move on from, or as he promised, miss. Park Chanyeol was amused at her leaving. He said he wasn’t going to miss her, which made it even funnier.

Each piece contained all the hate and all the worries, all the paybacks she had to consider before taking another leap further away from Chanyeol. He wrote how he hated the way she ironed his clothes, or the way she washed the dishes, how his socks always lost a pair in the laundry basket. He complained at how the bike got scratches, how she had a leg fracture for not listening. Chanyeol couldn’t help himself either whilst adding the way that he didn’t like her waiting up on him or the way she roasts her chickens. He even managed to laugh at the entry in little text, how Jiyeon wasn’t that entertaining in bed anymore.

Before proceeding to start something new, Chanyeol sighed sadly. What for? He was a puzzle that would never be complete again, lacking and a large hole in the middle, like how all natural things seemed to be anyway.

 

 

He tore all the letters without anymore warning, feeling tired, but still thinking of Jiyeon, deep inside his heart. He forgot how to include how he liked the way she ran around in her peach dress, the way she danced to the music in clubs, the way she always smiled angrily. She smiled when she was angry –Chanyeol enjoyed every bit of it. He liked how she used to stay up too late that he had to wake up at midnight to make her coffee and share a cup, sometimes kissing was involved and she would refuse of course because she had other homework.

He remembered how he carried her on his back, because he couldn’t afford the bike yet. And sometimes they did go to carnivals and she screamed her lungs out in horror booths and when the roller coaster got too high. He missed how she ate her noodles, how she ate off his bowl of noodles. Jiyeon tucked him in first, like her little baby.

Chanyeol knew that he had never loved anyone as much as Jiyeon because... she was Jiyeon, his Jiyeon alone and he wouldn’t be Park Chanyeol without her to his side, singing random notes out of her memory or reading silently her anatomy notes. They used to act out Shakespeare too, more often than not, and they end up laughing each time because at their accents. The best of the best yet.

“I miss you,” he ended up writing all of these with lots of hearts at the end. The basketball court was the first place they met, when he bounced off that ball on her head and Baekhyun teased him all the way home.

Just as quickly as he came, he ventured to the top of the hill as daybreak shone. Just in time, he realized, because Jiyeon liked sunrises more than he loved sunsets. Moved on, Wu Fan said, but that didn’t quite exist all the more yet after missing every part of his life, now written into that piece of paper.

The graveyard was quiet, naturally it was. His nostalgia was far more important than the loneliness he felt at the moment, so he slipped into an isolated part of the graveyard where a single stone stood, her name carved on it.

He placed the letter on top and smiled happily like he never had before. “How are you, my Juliet?”


End file.
